My head jerks up and I throw him an arch look. “I’m going out, Percy. I might be back soon, but in case I’m not, I’ve left you some spare food.” Casting a final, appraising look at the mountain of dry food I’ve heaped into his feeder, I straighten, brushing off my skirt.
Where are you going?Percy asks, though his tone suggests he has absolutely no interest in my response. If he had opposable thumbs, I swear he’d be filing his nails.
Still, he’s my familiar, and we are supposed to be closely bonded.So I decide to tell him at least part of the truth. “I’m trying to break into Magecorp.”
Magecorp?His ears swivel to face me, as though his interest has been piqued—slightly.The conglomerate that packages and supplies magic?
“The very same.” I grimace. What Harrisford and I are about to attempt seems…insurmountable.
Are you stealing some?Percy pauses.I suppose that makes sense, given you seem to be able to afford very little.
My head grows hot with frustration, and I snap, “Well, aren’t you my familiar now? Aren’t you supposed to help me channel more magic, or something?”
I’m a cat, he retorts, and sniffs.Not a rechargeable battery.
I stare at him, open-mouthed. Before, I’d always thought getting a familiar would signal the end of all my problems. Now I’m realizing that maybe, just maybe, it might end up causing more.
Percy just closes his eye and turns his head away, ignoring me. Tamping down my irritation at my arrogant jerk of a cat, I start heading back out. It’s time to go—with or without Percy’s help.
As I’m slamming the door behind me, his voice sounds in my head again.
Best of luck, Hairless One, he says.
Magecorp HQ is open seven days a week (the demand for magic is, after all, 24/7), but as it’s a Saturday the office is a bit less crowded than usual. Since Harrisford is instantly recognizable and therefore can’t go in, he and I part ways at the entrance; he lopes into a side street to park his motorbike while I totter through the enormous glass doors, slightly unsteady on my borrowed heels. They’re a sizetoo big and I’ve packed the toes with tissues, but my feet still slide around inside.
Inside, the lobby is enormous, with marble floors and steel sculptures and a massive concrete reception desk. Harrisford told me reception would be unoccupied on a weekend, and he was right.
I take a deep breath, my fingers curling into fists by my sides. I can do this. I can be brave. Over the past few days, I’ve stolen a cat, I’ve ridden a dragon, and—perhaps the most reckless thing of all—I’ve spent time, alone, with Harrisford Briggs. Compared with those things, breaking into Magecorp HQ is nothing…or so I tell myself.
Trying to look like I belong, I march up to the row of turnstiles, my high heels clicking on the floor. I hold up Hani’s ID, which is now looped around my neck, my pulse going haywire as I wait for the magical scanner to complete its identification.
It takes an excruciatingly long time, and by the time the turnstile clicks open I’m practically hyperventilating. I pass by a cleaner mopping the shiny, pristine floor and slip into the lift. Harrisford has told me that the high-security section, where all the most confidential information is kept, is on the top level.
It feels like a long ride up to the fifty-second floor, and by the time the lift doors ping open, my clothes are clinging to my sweaty back. I edge out, checking the corridor for any people, before heading toward the stainless steel vault at the end of the hall.
There’s a magical scanner just outside. Is it too much to hope that Hani Nguyen’s card will work? I swipe it, but the door just gives a plaintive beep and doesn’t open.Damn it.
Leaning my back against the wall, I think. This is the room that Harrisford said would contain the information that we need, and somehow I have to get inside. An idea is forming; it’s not something I relish doing, since I don’t want to break more rules, but I simplycan’t think of another way. Besides, it’s not like Harrisford Briggs will miss the money.
I open the Messages app on my strap.Briggs, I type out quickly.I need the resignio spell to get in.
There’s a brief pause during which he doesn’t reply. Is he…still there? Has that bastard abandoned me to do this myself? Or even worse—has hebetrayedme? Is this all a ruse to frame me, to get me caught breaking the law?
Perhaps he’s down there laughing his arse off, expecting the burglar alarms to go off any second.
I swallow down the thick lump in my throat.
But then my strap vibrates, and there’s a message from Harrisford. No words, just a single, no-effort, apathetic thumbs-up. That twat. He makes me so fucking furious.
I wait for several minutes until the magic infiltrates my fingers, then hold my hand above the steel door handle. Mimicking what I’d seen Harrisford do at his mansion, I mime opening up the door.
Nothing happens.
It didn’t work.
Fucking fuckity fuck. Did I do it wrong? I’m the first to admit that while I’m exceptional at performing veterinary work, I’m not that great at non-vet spells—mainly because growing up I never had enough spare magic to play around with simple charms.
My breath is starting to feel tight in my chest. The clamminess has crept up my back and now laces my neck and my forehead; my sweaty feet slip around in my shoes. What am I going to do? How am I going to get inside?
